


Emancipation of the Broken

by TheMisanthrope



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Character Study, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Daenerys Targaryen Lives, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Original Character(s), Past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Post - A Game of Thrones, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, R Plus L Equals J, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Targaryen Restoration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:02:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMisanthrope/pseuds/TheMisanthrope
Summary: The conflict between in Westeros has ended, and the Six Kingdoms are stable under the hand of Bran the Broken.In the North, Queen Sansa Stark rules with firmness and resilience. But a startling revelation regarding Jon Snow arises that challenges the peace of the kingdom.Rumors spread in the Kingdom that Daenerys Targaryen may still be alive.Malevolent forces are in the midst, and the main players in the Game of Thrones might still have another force to settle.
Relationships: Daario Naharis/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Val, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Past Arya Stark/Gendry Waters - Relationship, past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen - Relationship
Kudos: 16





	1. The Boy I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> This is not a fix-it, rather just my own spin on the post-canon happenings in the GOT TV Universe. It picks up 15 years after the show's ending, and follows the main characters of the show. I will also be mixing in book canon wherever required, and introducing original characters. As this is my first ever go at a fanfiction, your support and advice would be incredibly appreciated.  
> Enjoy!

He was a brave boy, and he had strong blood. At least, that's what his father had told him. There was a tightness in his throat, and he felt lightheaded. He suppressed all of that, and tried to give all of his being to the task his father had given him.

He walked and walked. The forest trees were spread throughout the landscape, sparse and leathery. After he had covered some distance, the forest began to give out and he came out in the open. Finally he saw it, and he released the breath he didn't know he was holding. The tall and gaping gates stood before him, concealing the structure within it. 

Winterfell.

Two men stood by the gates, one was an older man with his a grey-flecked beard, and the another was a youth like himself. He approached them, his heart thumping in his chest. 

"Look at that, Doran." the younger guard said grinning, as he came near the gates, "A damn wildling."

"Shut it, Willy." Doran, the older one interjected, "Let's hear what he has to say." Then he turned towards him, and continued, "What business brings you here, boy?"

"I need to meet with the Queen," he replied, the way his father had told him to say, "Tell her Jon Snow sent me."

Willy broke out in laughter, not jolly, rather cruel and mocking, "It's not that easy, fool."

Doran slapped him on the back, and said, "Go off and inform the Queen."

Willy grunted with annoyance, but he followed through and marched inside the gates. After a few minutes, he came strolling back. 

"Follow me." he said.

He followed the man inside the castle gates, and caught sight of the colossal structure before them. The old castle stood on a rugged slope, dark and looming. The pillars shone with ice in the crystal cold air, their ragged outlines blending into the sharp onslaught of the winter sun. The man led him inside the castle, and made him sit in a small room.

"Wait here." he said, and left him there.

The opening of the door alerted him. A woman stepped inside the room, followed by another woman. The older one was beautiful, yet incredibly solemn. Her auburn locks were bound in a tight plaited bun, and she stared at him with steely blue eyes. Her gaze was not cruel, but it was not inviting either. Queen Sansa Stark, his father had told him. 

The other woman was younger, and possessed the lithe form of a fighter. She had blue-grey eyes akin to a wolf and also regarded him with suspicion. She reminded him of his father.

"They say Jon Snow sent you." the Queen questioned, her voice strong and unbroken.

"Aegon Targaryen sent me." he said, the way his father had told him to say, "He said you know him as Jon Snow."

The queen exchanged a glance with the younger woman, her mask of solemnity wearing off and getting replaced with a moment's worth of surprise. However, she quickly rearranged herself.

"How do you know him?"

"I am his son, Eddard Targaryen."


	2. Daenerys I

She was a queen once; great, mighty and respected. She was an aunt, a friend and a lover once.

She was once Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.

Once.

She was none of that now. All that had been scrapped away, leaving behind only a shell. A pathetic phantom of herself.

The Seven Kingdoms. The Dothraki. Jon Snow. Dragons. Everything. All were now remnants of another lifetime. A lifetime that was thirteen years past. And this was a new lifetime. A chance that she hadn't deserved. But a chance that had been given to her.

* * *

Her dreams were more intense than before. Vivid and clear. She remembered what she was every night. The glory of her past, and the shame of her fall tormented her, consumed her existence. She need to be reminded of it. The cries of dying innocence as fire rained down upon them. The rubble King's Landing had been reduced to. Soot, blood and raw rage.

But, that was not her most frequent dream. She dreamt of a feast in Dragonstone, with all of the Targaryen lineage in attendance, mighty and beautiful. In the ranks were Daenys the Dreamer, Aegon the Conqueror, Visenya the warrior, Rhaegar, and even her father, the Mad King. They laughed at her, ridiculed her. Some gave her mere disappointed glances. But what her father said tormented her the most.

_That's my girl._

That was the dream that she woke up with, fitful and unpleasant. She crawled out of her small bed, and had to smirk at the cruel irony. She had wished so dearly for the house with the red door, and she had ended up in it. Now, she was just another bystander in the ruckus of Braavos.

She glanced in the small mirror on the wall, lifted up her blouse, and brushed her fingers over the scar that marred her ivory flesh. The scar that her nephew, her lover had given her. Faded, but never gone. She still had her amethyst eyes, but they were only empty clouds now. Her silver tresses were now trimmed to her neck, so she could easily mask it with a headscarf. Not that anyone would equate her pathetic self with a Targaryen, but precautions were pivotal.

She stepped out to the common room of her small dwelling, and her heart leapt in her chest. The woman sat there, still and unmoving. Her face was unconcealed, for she had stopped wearing her face covering years ago.

"Quaithe." Daenerys greeted, gathering her nerves.

It always perplexed her why Drogon chose to drop her in this house, and perplexed her more that Quaithe of the Shadows was there. She had been the one to dress her wound, nurse her back to this empty shell of herself. When she rose from her fitful death, she didn't know it was Quaithe right away. She saw a woman, tall and bronzed and ominous, standing over her.

"Who are you?" those were the first words of her new life.

The woman turned, and Daenerys saw those eyes, haunting and looming that she would never forget. Except now her face was unconcealed, thin and gaunt.

"Quaithe of Asshai, why are you here?"

"The shadows have sent me to aid you." she replied, and that was it. Daenerys tried prying information from her on a myriad of ocassions, but she remained as ominous as ever. She gave her a new life, and named her Maera Moon. A bastard with humble beginnings.

That didn't explain why she was here now, and so Daenerys had to ask.

"Why are you here?"

"Jon Snow is dead." Quaithe said finally.

Daenerys' heart stopped for a second, and she stood there numb and unmoving. Her insides became plagued with an horrible burning sensation, worse than actually being struck with a flame. God, she felt so empty.

"How?" she said, her voice small and still.

"An ailment." Quaithe replied, and that was all.

"You're not giving me the full story."

Quaithe gave no reply, just a steely glance. She stood, made her way to the door. Daenerys made no move to stop her, and so she left.

* * *

When the night came, Daenerys stepped out into the darkness and cried. She screamed, raw and unbroken. Her shoulders shook with each heavy sob. She cried for her lost lover. She cried for her lost life. She cried for her lost glory. Everything.

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